Stud Poker
by mcnasty-filth
Summary: Arthur propositions Eames. PWP/explicit slash/language - the usual suspects. Reviews welcomed.


Disclaimer: I don't own Inception.

Musical Recommendations:

- Blu: Upside-Down Cake

- De La Soul ft. Redman: Oooh

- Sene: One Two

- Jay-Z: Thank You

- Pete Rock ft. Pharoahe Monch: Just Do It

* * *

Eames stood in the lobby of Arthur's apartment building, wondering what on earth had possessed him to come here. Well, if truth were to be told, it was the cryptic text Arthur had sent him earlier that day – his address and the time, completely out of the blue. Eames considered ignoring it, but Arthur didn't do anything without a good reason, and Eames wanted to know what the good reason was. He entered the apartment code into the intercom and heard only a single ring before the door buzzed open. _This is getting weirder by the second_, Eames thought, wandering down the main hall until he found the elevators. The one on the left stood open as if it had been waiting for him. He hesitated before getting in and hitting the button for the sixth floor. A flurry of questions raced through his mind:

_Is this about the last job? A mistake I made? Did something go wrong? Did I fuck up? Is Arthur going to kill me? Is he going to fuck me? Does he want me to fuck him?_

The last two sent a blush across Eames' face, which he noted in the mirrored walls of the elevator. "Goddammit, Arthur!" he muttered, rubbing the corners of his eyes in frustration. The sixth floor arrived too quickly, forcing him off the elevator and down the hall towards Arthur's apartment. Once located, Eames stood before it like an errant student before the principal. He wiped his damp palms on his pants, fiddled with the collar of his shirt, and ran a hand through his hair before reaching out to rap on the door. He couldn't do it. He stroked his jaw, wondering if he should've shaved before coming here, and tried again. The door swung open in mid-knock and Arthur stood before him, impeccably dressed as usual.

"Procrastination is the thief of time," he said, a smile playing on his lips.

"Hello to you too, Arthur." Eames could feel the other man scrutinizing him.

"I see you're in your Sunday best; I'm flattered."

"Piss off and let me in."

Arthur stood back and swung his arm out, bowing slightly. "Welcome to my humble abode." Eames stepped in and jumped when the door slammed shut behind him, his fate sealed by the click of the lock. Arthur brushed past him and disappeared into what Eames guessed was the kitchen. "Drink?" he called out.

"No thanks," Eames replied, surveying his surroundings. The apartment was modern, small and spare – very Arthur. The décor – or lack thereof – favored black and white, with few colors thrown in. Arthur returned with his briefcase, motioning to a table and chairs pushed up against the living room wall.

"You're wondering why I asked you here. Sit and I'll explain." Eames did so, nervously twiddling his thumbs in his lap as Arthur set down his briefcase and sat back in his chair. Maybe this was just about work – why else would Arthur have brought his case out? Unless, of course, there was a gun in it and he really was planning on killing him. "This has nothing to do with jobs," Arthur started. "It has to do with you – more specifically, your thoughts."

_Oh, shit. He knows._

"I know you've been thinking – no, fantasizing – about me for quite some time, Eames. Don't waste your breath trying to deny it."

"How did you-" Eames sputtered, but Arthur cut him off.

"That's not important. I brought you here because I want to hear you say it."

Eames knew he'd been cornered with no chance of escape. His heart leapt into his throat, rendering him mute. Arthur chuckled, pleased to have succeeded in ruffling his co-worker's feathers.

"Take your time. I've got all night."

_He already knows. Just say it and get it over with._ Eames felt sweat trickling down his sides. He cleared his throat. "I think about you all the time. Constantly."

"In what way?" Arthur was enjoying this.

"Um…naked, usually."

"Doing what?"

Eames felt his temper flare. "Conducting traffic in Times Square – what the hell do you think, Arthur? I think about fucking you, about you sucking my cock, and then about fucking you some more." Arthur raised his eyebrows, waiting for the rest to come tumbling out. Eames took a deep breath. "What fucking good is it for me to say this? You're a co-worker, off-limits. I want you and it kills me that I can't have you."

"Oh, you can have me," Arthur interjected, his expression slightly impish, "but you'll have to work for it."

"What're you proposing?" Eames asked, his curiosity well beyond piqued. Arthur said nothing as he retrieved his briefcase, slamming it on the table and opening it with a flourish. He lobbed a small box in Eames' direction before snapping the briefcase shut. Eames, slightly dazzled by Arthur's unusual behavior, didn't seem to notice the box until it landed in his lap. He didn't have to look at it to know what it was – its shape and weight were all-too-familiar.

"Cards," Eames said, now understanding what the other man was getting at. "Since when did you fancy yourself a cardsharp, Arthur?"

Arthur only gave a slight smile. "You don't really know me at all, do you?" He motioned towards the deck of cards. "Now give it here."

"Sorry, love, but if you're in my house, you play by my rules." Eames unsheathed the cards and inspected them for signs of marking before easing into his favorite shuffling sequence. Arthur refrained from pointing out that they were in _his_ apartment, and accepted the situation with a bemused expression as he settled back in his chair and folded his arms.

"So what's your game, Arthur?" Eames asked, his gaze shifting to meet Arthur's in a way that sent a pleasant chill down the other man's spine. "Crazy Eights? War? No – it's Old Maid, isn't it?"

Arthur couldn't help but chuckle at Eames' teasing. "You've pigeonholed me as an unimaginative stick-in-the-mud, but like I said before, you really don't know me." Eames arched an eyebrow at him expectantly. "Strip poker. Seven-card stud."

Eames gasped theatrically in an effort to mask his genuine surprise and delight. "Heavens to Betsy, Arthur! What would the others think?"

"I'm sure they'd be shocked and appalled," Arthur intoned. "Now deal."

Eames' pulse was racing; he needed an excuse to calm himself down enough to play with a clear head. "Hold on a tick, Arthur – we haven't any chips." Without missing a beat, Arthur re-opened his briefcase and extracted a bag of LifeSavers.

"Oral fixation," he explained before Eames could ask, opening the bag and choosing an orange candy before dumping the rest onto the table. He made a show of sliding the little ring into his mouth and tonguing it obscenely, the combination of wet sucking sounds and his direct stare causing considerable stirring in Eames' pants. Eames found himself feeling oddly jealous of the candy, wishing that Arthur was working his mouth around his cock instead. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, knowing full well that Arthur had planned this encounter as meticulously as he would a job.

"Fine," he managed, dealing two downcards and one upcard each while Arthur divided the LifeSavers evenly. Eames glanced at his cards – six, eight, three – and felt the sheen of sweat grace his brow. A bad beginning usually didn't bother him, but more than money was at stake here; he'd wanted so badly to have the upper hand and watch Arthur strip down first. To make matters worse, Arthur possessed an abysmal poker face and was openly smirking at his cards. He pushed a candy to the middle of the table. Eames did the same and dealt the fourth cards, an ace for Arthur and a miserable two for himself.

"Deuces wild?" Arthur offered, swirling the candy around in his mouth.

_Dammit,_ Eames thought. _Here comes the patronizing pity parade._ "Well – don't see why not."

Arthur simply made a satisfied noise before flicking another LifeSaver into the pot. Eames followed suit and dealt another card, pleased to see that Arthur had gotten a three while he'd obtained a king. Arthur's expression didn't change until Eames raised him a candy, and even then he only seemed mildly amused.

"Getting cocky are we now, Mr. Eames?"

"Never too early, darling," Eames said, tossing another three before his opponent. The anxiety he'd felt only minutes ago had dissipated, and each acquired high card increased the heat gathering in his groin. Arthur directed a red and a white candy towards the others, Eames calling the bet and raising it with green. He now had three kings, counting the wild card; surely Arthur didn't have anything better. Eames' brashness and open displays of emotion were completely out of character, given the situation, but he simply couldn't help himself. Which article of clothing would come off of Arthur first? Perhaps that boring black tie, which could double as a blindfold once Eames had him naked and face down on the bed. Or maybe it would be the belt – Eames could hear it unbuckling and hissing out of belt loops, picturing Arthur's agile white hands moving to undo the button on his pants.

"Hey!" Arthur threw a LifeSaver at Eames, hitting him on the forehead and shattering his reverie. Eames blinked stupidly before realizing that he had more cards to deal. Arthur shook his head as he accepted a ten, rearranging the cards in his hand with a smile. "You were wondering what I'd take off first, weren't you?"

_Damn you, Arthur!_ Eames dealt the final downcard – his was another six – and pushed three more candies into the pot, trying to remain calm. "Yes," he muttered.

"Well, lucky for you I'm in a benevolent mood tonight. If I lose this round, I'll let you pick."

Eames allowed himself a smirk and a red LifeSaver. "Read 'em and weep, Arthur," he said, displaying a full house of kings over sixes. His heart raced as Arthur laid down his cards, revealing three aces and nothing more. Eames nearly jumped out of his chair with glee. "Take off that miserable tie!"

Arthur complied, the bemused expression never leaving his face and his eyes never leaving Eames'. Knowing he was being watched – leered at, really – was a massive turn-on. After dropping the tie neatly onto the floor, he ran a hand over his hardening cock and said, "Deal." Eames, wanting Arthur to get naked as quickly as possible, wasted no time in divvying out cards.

Minutes later the pile of candies between the two men had grown, along with the sexual tension that had been present from the start of the evening. Eames could feel his shirt sticking to him in several places and found himself wishing that Arthur would win this round so that he could take it off. His four of a kind beat Arthur's straight, though, and the point man kicked off his shoes before Eames could make any demands.

"I was hoping for the belt," Eames sighed, feeling slightly disappointed.

"Is that so?" Arthur shifted in his seat and Eames felt a socked foot snaking along his inner thigh, headed straight toward his crotch. It found its target and traced its length with a toe, nudging balls with the heel. Eames inhaled sharply, glancing at Arthur, who was pretending to be completely oblivious to the lust his foot was instilling in him.

"I take it back," Eames breathed.

"That's what I thought," Arthur said, looking quite smug. "Let's continue, shall we?" He attempted to withdraw his foot but Eames clamped it between his legs, a devious half-smile cementing its place. Goosebumps crawled over Arthur's skin and he felt pleasantly lightheaded as he received the next series of cards, giving Eames a stroke or two intermittently.

Undoubtedly due to the redistribution of blood in his body, Eames lost the next round – Arthur had managed to acquire a flush, which encouraged the same across his opponent's face. Eames went for the top button of his shirt but stopped and instead toed off his hideous loafers, suddenly shy about exposing any significant amount of skin. This time it was Arthur who let his disappointment show for a mere split second.

"What're the stakes here?" Eames asked, thighs still snuggling Arthur's foot.

"What would you like them to be?" Arthur responded.

"Loser bottoms," Eames said, giving the foot a confident squeeze. Arthur slid another LifeSaver into his mouth and feigned contemplation.

"I suppose that's fair," he said. He certainly wouldn't mind Eames bending him over the furniture; he also wouldn't mind getting the opportunity to bend Eames over the table…or chair, or counter, or anything else, for that matter. His cock twitched in agreement.

Eames dealt himself a king and two jacks right off the bat, fueling his need to get Arthur undressed. Arthur considered his cards without pushing more candy into the pot, throwing them onto the table with a huff. "No use in drawing it out," he groused.

Ten, four, five, Eames noted with delight, proudly displaying his pair of jacks. "Off with the shirt."

"Not so fast," Arthur said, carefully undoing his cufflinks before setting them on the table. The huffy face had disappeared completely, a smug grin now in its place.

"Those don't count!" Eames protested.

"If the tie and belt count, then these do too," Arthur said. "And so will the sock suspenders."

"That's not fair – you've twice as many things to take off as me!"

Arthur brought his other foot up to rest in Eames' lap. "Hmm…I seem to remember a certain Mr. Eames deciding that 'loser bottoms' was a good idea only a few minutes ago."

The heat in Eames' crotch was now traveling to his ears. "Fine! No more of this seven card business – five cards, no betting, and the loser strips." He shoved the LifeSavers to the edge of the table and dealt the cards, desperation creeping into his actions. Eames couldn't remember the last time he'd lost a poker game and he wasn't about to create a fresh memory. He took a deep breath before turning over his cards: ace, three, nine, eight, nine.

"Ten high," Arthur said, spreading out his cards.

"Yes!" Eames almost shouted. "Lose the shirt!"

The feet disappeared from Eames' lap as their owner stood up, neatly undoing buttons before pulling the shirt tails free and letting the starched fabric fall to the floor. For quite possibly the first time in his life, Arthur felt confident standing half-naked in front of another man. Eames gave him the once-over before allowing his lust-darkened gaze to settle on the choicest parts of Arthur's body. Only a few more rounds and he'd have the other man completely naked, free to appreciate his lithe form with more than just eyes. His cock strained at the material of his pants at the thought.

After a long moment of soaking up the attention, Arthur returned to his place at the table. "Let's not waste any more time on ogling, delightful as it may be." Eames made a disappointed noise before dealing, causing the hairs on Arthur's exposed skin to stand on end.

"Shit all," Eames said after glancing at his hand.

"What a pity," Arthur smarmed, "seeing as I've got three of a kind." He tossed his cards onto the table and leaned back in his chair. "Let's get those pants off of you."

This came as a surprise to Eames, but he stood up and unzipped without hesitation, the weight of the fabric making a satisfying noise as it hit the floor. A blind man could've sensed Arthur's eyes zeroing in on the prominent tent Eames' cock had created in his boxer briefs. Under any other circumstances this would have inflated Eames' ego, but the burn of self-consciousness increased with every second of Arthur's staring.

"Turn around," Arthur said, stroking his chin as though he were appraising livestock. The shifting of impressive musculature under taut skin made Arthur want to abandon the game and tackle Eames to the floor, but he took a deep breath instead and forced himself to maintain the composure for which he was so well-known. Sensing this, Eames sat back down rather awkwardly and dealt another round. His confidence returned when his ace high beat Arthur's queen, and without a word his opponent whipped off his belt and tossed it aside.

"Pants next," Eames said as he dealt and turned over a second winning hand. Arthur's expression did not change as he stepped out of the black confines of his trousers, but Eames' eyebrows rose reflexively when he saw the impressive bulge in Arthur's silk boxers. He found himself wondering how it would feel in his hands, in his mouth, inside of him – _fuck_! He'd never imagined himself as a bottom before but idea was becoming increasingly arousing.

Eames picked out another LifeSaver and chewed it as he divvied out cards, unaware that the rapid crunching was revealing how nervous he was. Seeing this, Arthur ran a hand through his hair before trailing it down the length of his torso and reaching down to squeeze his barely-clothed erection. He let out a soft moan, briefly closing his eyes with pleasure before fixing them on Eames.

"You lose," he said, despite not having seen the other man's cards. Eames realized that he was right, the bastard, and peeled off his damp shirt. "Christ," Arthur whispered, hand still glued to his cock, "Look at you."

"I'd much rather look at _you_, love," Eames said, sweat running down his spine as he watched Arthur begin to slowly stroke himself through the thin material of his boxers. This unabashed display of desire was one of the hottest things he'd seen in ages.

"Two more rounds and you can fuck me senseless," Arthur panted. "Hurry up!"

_A stickler for rules right to the very end_, Eames thought, flinging cards around. Arthur flipped his over without looking at them – an ace high, which lost to Eames' pair of fours. He intuited his loss and began undoing his sock suspenders frantically as Eames dealt the final hand.

A wave of trepidation caused Eames' knees to start trembling as he stared at the five cards lying face down in front of him. Arthur, having finally freed himself of his suspenders, grabbed another candy and sucked it hard as he waited for Eames to reveal his hand. Slowly and carefully, Eames turned over the cards to expose the worst hand he'd had all night: three, four, eight, six, five. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach and a fresh sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead. Arthur flipped his cards over, one by one: ten, five, jack, queen, nine – all clubs.

Neither man said anything for a long moment. Arthur clacked the candy against his teeth as he regarded his prize. "Looks like I get to fuck _you_ senseless, Eames," he said, his voice low and raspy. "Come here." Eames obeyed, trembling like a leaf as he stood before Arthur, his fingers plucking at the waistband of his boxer briefs. Arthur swatted them away. "Let me." He shuffled his chair closer, drawing his opponent in by the hips to stand between his spread knees. Eames nearly swooned as Arthur touched his lips to the skin above his navel, fingers hooking under the waistband of his underwear and tugging them down as his tongue followed the dark trail of hair that led to Eames' aching cock.

"Ohhhhh, Arthur…" Eames sighed, gripping the other man's head with both hands as if to affirm his presence. Arthur gave the underwear a sharp yank to free Eames' erection, which promptly sprang up and smacked the underside of his chin. He sat back in admiration as Eames kicked off the briefs, contemplating how he would begin to ravish his co-worker; all he could think about was how it would feel to have that impressive cock hit the back of his throat. _Slow down,_ he told himself. _Make him wait for it._ Arthur stood up and smoothed his hands over the slick expanse of Eames' chest before pressing himself against him and catching his lower lip between his teeth. Eames grabbed a handful of Arthur's silk-covered ass just as their mouths coupled together, sealing their bodies together from the crotch up.

Arthur's hands traveled around to Eames' back, nails digging into the tanned flesh every time their cocks thrust against each other. Eames broke the kiss and panted into Arthur's ear as he stripped him of his boxers. A fresh wave of electricity shot through Arthur when Eames gripped his cock and ran his thumb over its leaking slit, the other hand grazing his balls.

"Jesusfuckinchrist!" Arthur hissed. His mouth reunited with Eames', nipping and sucking and teeth crashing together. The burn of stubble rasping against his skin encouraged him to dig his nails deeper into Eames' back, which caused the other man to tighten his grip on Arthur's cock. Arthur thrust into Eames' hand, fucking it desperately for a few seconds before breaking free. He felt his self-control shattering as he dropped to his knees, seizing Eames' hips to steady himself as he ran his tongue along the underside of his magnificent cock. Eames gasped, his knees nearly buckling from the surge of pleasure Arthur's mouth sent through him. Arthur licked up a bead of pre-cum before suckling down Eames' length, wondering how something this size was going to fit in his mouth.

"God, Arthur, don't stop," Eames whined, running his hands through the other man's hair. Arthur shifted his attention from cock to balls, drawing one into his mouth as he reached down to give his aching dick a few jerks. The sounds that kept spilling from Eames' mouth emboldened him to recreate the fantasy of deep-throating all seven inches; he wrapped his free hand around the base and his lips around the head before plunging down. He drew back slowly, gazing up at Eames to gauge his reaction. Eames' pupils were blown and his mouth hung slightly open, breaths coming in irregular spurts. He adjusted his grip on the back of Arthur's head and eased his mouth back down the length of his cock, resisting the urge to skullfuck him into next week.

Arthur settled into a rhythm, trying his best to ignore the intermittent heaves of his gag reflex and the pins-and-needles sensation in his legs, which were aching from being kept in the same position for so long. When he could no longer stand the discomfort he withdrew his mouth, still connected to the head of Eames' cock by a string of saliva, and looked Eames in the eye. "Bed," he ordered, leading the way. The two stumbled the short distance to Arthur's room; Arthur pushed Eames onto the bed and continued where he'd left off.

It didn't take long before Eames wanted to do more than just lay back and receive – he wanted to hear Arthur make some noise and see him react to his touch like he had before. "Arthur," he whispered hoarsely.

"Mmm?" Arthur looked up, mouth still full.

"Get your ass up here."

Arthur knew what Eames wanted from him, though he wasn't exactly sure how he was supposed to position himself. He crawled up onto the bed and had only begun to turn around when Eames impatiently grabbed hold of his legs, dragging him backwards until he was on all fours directly over him. Eames ran his nails down Arthur's haunches before brushing his lips against his cock. "Mmm…that should do it, darling." His tongue flicked over the fraenum, causing Arthur's entire body to shiver. Arthur made a string of unintelligible sounds as he buried his face in the crease where Eames' thigh met his torso. He nearly bucked his entire length down Eames' throat when he felt wet heat enveloping him; he focused his attention back to the Brit's cock to keep his impending orgasm at bay.

After some time Arthur shifted off of Eames and turned around to catch his mouth in a searing kiss, the taste of his cock still fresh on the other man's tongue. He trailed along Eames' jaw and down to the hollow where his collar bones met, the strong scent of his sweat causing his head to spin. Arthur was overwhelmed by the urge to map every square inch of Eames' body with his mouth, to memorize the texture and location of every erogenous spot. He wanted his tongue to incite an endless string of lust-slurred sounds to spill from those sinful lips; most of all he wanted that cock back in his mouth and white-hot cum hitting the back of his throat.

"You've no idea how long I've wanted this," Eames groaned as Arthur's mouth found his left nipple and began to toy with it. He suppressed a chuckle at Eames' forgetfulness – they'd already been through this. Of course he'd known; he was the point man, the fact-checker, the researcher. Apart from pleasuring coworkers orally, it was what he did best.

"Mmm-hmm," he responded, servicing the right nipple and sucking a path down Eames' flank. The moment Eames felt Arthur's lips reconnect with his dripping cock, he automatically arched up into his willing mouth and gripped his hair with unprecedented force. The searing heat of his tongue sent Eames over the edge, a veritable scream ripping out of him as he shot streams of molten cum down Arthur's throat. The bitter taste surprised Arthur but didn't stop him from swallowing it greedily, sucking Eames' now-spent cock dry. Eames shuddered as the last waves of orgasm coursed through his body, quiet mewling sounds still escaping his mouth as Arthur's tongue swept over the hypersensitive head.

Arthur, meanwhile, was hovering on the brink of orgasm and knew he'd have to gear down if he wanted to fuck Eames properly. As much as he'd like to flip him over and bury himself to the hilt in one go, he expected that a successful fucking would take plenty of coaxing.

"Turn over," Arthur said, rather hoarsely. Eames, still basking in post-orgasmic bliss, didn't realize he'd been spoken to until he felt a sharp pinch.

"What's that, love?"

"Over!" Arthur repeated, attempting to manhandle him into position. Too punch-drunk to protest, Eames rolled onto his stomach and let out a pleased sigh as he snuggled into the comforter. Arthur's hands slid over his back and shoulders before venturing down to knead his ass, which he had to admit felt pretty damn relaxing. He was just beginning to drift out of consciousness when he felt the slickness of Arthur's tongue running down the crack of his ass. Eames jerked up onto his elbows and twisted to look back at Arthur - this sensation was new and unexpected, but not unwanted.

"Is this okay?" Arthur asked, hoping to god that it was. Eames paused for a split second before grunting his assent and concaving his spine ever-so-slightly as he relaxed back into the bed. A fresh flood of goose bumps spread over him as Arthur's tongue reconnected with his flesh, moving slowly down to his asshole. The continuously kneading hands on his backside allowed Eames to relax further as Arthur delved lower, dragging his tongue in painfully slow circles over puckered skin.

"Fuck," Eames breathed. Arthur's mouth was indeed versatile, its repertoire vast – it had already gotten his cock hard again. Arthur took this as his cue to move more quickly and deliberately, working his tongue until it began to ache. He nipped and sucked at the sensitive stretch of skin between Eames' balls and his asshole, spurred on by the guttural moans he kept producing. Eames had raised his ass high enough off the bed to allow Arthur to slide one hand down to grasp his throbbing cock, jerking it in sync with the rapid flickering of his tongue.

Arthur was certain his cock grew another inch when Eames practically screamed his name into the sheets. He withdrew his tongue, using it to lubricate a finger before easing it into Eames' body. Despite his gentleness, Eames gasped in pain and tried to wriggle away from the finger. "Take it out! Jesus Christ, take it out!" Arthur did so, feeling perplexed; this wasn't boding well. He gave Eames' tailbone an apologetic kiss, tentatively running his tongue back down to his asshole. Eames relaxed a bit, accepting Arthur's ministrations for another minute or two before interrupting them.

"Just…just put your cock in. I can take it."

Arthur stopped what he was doing. "You sure? It's a lot bigger than-"

"Fuck me. Now."

_How could I refuse?_ Arthur thought, getting up to retrieve proper lubricant from its place under the bed. His entire body trembled with excitement as he uncapped the tube, coating the length of his cock and spreading the excess over Eames' asshole. How many years had he dreamt of this, fantasized about it, jerked off to the thought of it? For a brief moment it seemed too good to be true.

Arthur leaned over Eames' tense body, bracing himself with one arm on the bed as he pressed the head of his cock up against the other man's impossibly tight entrance. Eames' breath hitched as Arthur inched forward, his brow furrowed in pain. Arthur, meanwhile, was caught between the ecstasy of searing, tight flesh encasing his cock and the agony of watching Eames suffer through it. When at last hips were flush against rump, both men exhaled loudly. Arthur didn't dare move until he was certain that he should. Eames finally opened his eyes, looking back at him quizzically.

"What're you waiting for, darling? I'm still in one piece."

Arthur didn't need to be told twice. He drew himself out of Eames and back in, the astounding tightness unlike anything he'd ever experienced. "Fuck, Eames…you feel incredible. Fucking incredible."

"I'll be sure to add that to my resume," Eames drawled. Arthur let out a short laugh and noted that the tension was gradually leaving the Brit's body, allowing him to move with a little more speed and force. He took a chance and slammed his hips against Eames, a jolt shooting straight up his spine as their balls slapped together. A series of unintelligible noises spilled out of Eames as he gripped the sheets and met Arthur's thrusts with some of his own, creating an exhilarating rhythm. Every few thrusts Arthur felt his cock hitting the small bundle of nerves deep inside Eames, whose cries ascended with each successive hit.

The frantic, wet sound of skin against skin continued until Arthur's arms began to shake and he collapsed onto Eames' back, pressing his forehead against the impressive musculature and snaking his hands under his body, grasping his shoulders with enough force to leave bruises. The added leverage allowed Arthur to pound deeper into Eames, spearing his prostate so accurately that he saw stars. Unable to access his cock, Eames rutted against the sheets in a desperate quest for release. Knowing Arthur was inside of him, his nails digging into his shoulders, his irregular panting hot on his back – it was an overwhelming rush of sensations, and it was leading him into an orgasm that was promising to be even more remarkable than the first.

"Don't stop," Eames managed, his voice high and strangled. "I'm almost – almost there!"

Arthur responded by fucking Eames harder, releasing his grip on his right shoulder and snaking his hand between skin and sweat-soaked sheets until it found Eames' cock. As awkward as this contortion was, Arthur managed to maintain his pace as his hand jerked furiously. He didn't have to maintain it for long, fortunately; within seconds Eames' body briefly stiffened before giving the closing thrust, shrieking Arthur's name as he bucked scalding hot cum into his fist.

This, combined with the sight of Eames writhing in ecstasy beneath him, set off the orgasm that had been building up at the base of Arthur's spine since the start of the evening. He reared back, grabbing Eames by the hips as he buried his cock to the hilt once more, withdrawing it just in time to release an arc of semen - and another, and another - over Eames' glistening back and ass. Sounds were coming out of his mouth, but he didn't recognize them as his own. His field of vision blackened from the outside in and he collapsed onto the bed next to Eames, whose head was still spinning from his own spectacular release.

The two lay there, listening to each other's slowing breaths, for quite some time. Eames suddenly sat up, shook his head as if to clear it, and eased himself off the bed.

"Where're you going?" Arthur slurred, too tired to get up and follow him.

"I'll be right back, love," Eames said, giving Arthur's ass a playful smack before heading toward the living room. "I just got an idea about what we should do with the rest of those LifeSavers."

-Fin-


End file.
